#fangirlproblems Read online

  #Fangirlproblems

  A Kpop Romance Book

  #Fangirlproblems

  A Kpop Romance Book

  Jennie Bennett

  To the girl who thinks she’s not enough: it’s okay to let people love you.

  #Fangirlproblems

  A K-pop Romance Book

  Text © 2018 Jennie Bennett

  Cover Design © 2018 Jennie Bennett

  Cover Photo © Meet Cute Photography

  Font © Sideshow and Cyreal

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-10: 1982916411

  ISBN-13: 978-1982916411

  Editing by Precy Larkins

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  #fangirlproblem1

  #fangirlproblem2

  #fangirlproblem3

  #fangirlproblem4

  #fangirlproblem5

  #fangirlproblem6

  #fangirlproblem7

  #fangirlproblem8

  #fangirlproblem9

  #fangirlproblem10

  #fangirlproblem11

  #fangirlproblem12

  #fangirlproblem13

  #fangirlproblem14

  #fangirlproblem15

  #fangirlproblem16

  #fangirlproblem17

  #fangirlproblem18

  #fangirlproblem19

  #fangirlproblem20

  #fangirlproblem21

  #fanGIRLFRIENDproblem1

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  #fangirlproblem1

  Feels. Too many of them. Most days, standing in a crowd for four hours sounds like an extreme form of torture, but not today. Today I’ll see X-O in person. I’ve dreamt of this for years, and the time has finally come.

  My Instagram is open to Chansol’s latest picture, his dyed hair an unnatural red color that somehow makes him even hotter. He’s wearing a striped shirt, leather jacket, and dark jeans. These are the same clothes I’d see him wearing when he landed here in Houston, my hometown. That thought alone keeps me on my feet.

  I’ve left him a comment like I always do. Can’t wait to see you, it says. While other fans are leaving comments about how much they love him, I’m always trying to write as if he were actually my friend and not a celebrity.

  My username isn’t anything exciting, either. @TalithaXO—my name and my favorite Kpop group.

  My roommate and best friend, Samantha, took my profile picture. In it, I’m sitting in a field of bluebells, sunshine on my face. My short brown hair curled well that day, and I’m wearing my favorite round-framed glasses. It’s one of my absolute favorite memories. One where I’m not just living day to day, but really living.

  Sometimes I wonder if Chansol ever reads my comments, but the likelihood is low. Today, however, I get to see him for real.

  What if Chansol glances my way? Even the thought of eye contact has my heart rate up. He’s going to be here soon.

  Of course, that’s only if the girl in front of me lets me look around her. Seriously, I didn’t know they made phones that big, and she’s holding it up like the apocalypse will occur if she misses filming a single second.

  I’ll forgive her since she’s a fangirl. It’s what fangirls do.

  “Talitha,” Samantha complains, rubbing her belly. “I’m starting to get hungry.”

  Bless her heart, she’s come out with me when she’s not even a Kpop fan. She claims her Vietnamese heritage is the thing that’s holding her back from committing to Kpop. She thinks most of the men look too feminine for her. It’s a major pet peeve of mine, but since I love her, I let it go.

  “It should be soon, I prom—”

  A huge cheer blasts from the multitude, cutting off my words. My bias is here. The thought shivers through my bones until it can no longer be contained. I join in the screams, jumping up and down so I can see.

  I’m submerged in the river of people, pushed along the current as everyone tries to get closer to the barrier. Curse my shortness. Most of the throng towers over my shabby five-foot-four-inch self. This can’t happen. I have to see Chansol in person, at least once.

  Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes, I use the advantage of my smallness to squeeze through places others can’t. While the taller people are crowding forward by trying to step on each other, I duck down, snaking through all available holes until I’m front and center.

  “Chansol!” I scream. I can’t help it―he’s here. I can’t see him, but I know he’s in the room and I want him to know I’m here, too. Doesn’t matter if he’ll never really see me. Knowing that he’s heard my voice is enough.

  Let’s face it, Chansol is the bias that trumps every other bias in the history of ultimate biases. I’ve tried to branch out, to feel the same things I feel when I follow other groups, but no one makes me feel like Chansol does.

  Six boys are heading down the walkway in sunglasses and hats, surrounded by a circle of bodyguards. I stop breathing.

  Usually, I’m not that crazy of a fangirl. I mean, I’ve had my moments where I’ve squealed in front of a computer screen or gushed to my online friends, but it’s nothing like this. The energy pounds, pushing into my soul until I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t let it out.

  “Chansol!” I shout again.

  Here they come, here they come, heretheyfreakingcome! I’m bouncing on my tiptoes to get a better view.

  I can almost see Chansol’s face. Those are his lanky legs, his long torso, and his―

  “Kay!” Someone behind me shouts, ripping at my hair and pulling me away from the front.

  My glasses slide crooked on my face, blurring my vision. I can’t get them back on fast enough. In a flash, the boys are gone. Out the door, to their waiting cars.

  No.

  I missed them.

  I didn’t get to see Chansol’s face.

  My one hope in life is left ruined, thanks to another fangirl. Seriously, I’ve been living for this moment. I don’t hate my work, but sometimes it feels like that’s all I am. I’d like to be a woman, too.

  I’m frozen, my hand still reaching out, hoping they’ll come back. I waited almost five hours in a mass of bodies, and this is all I get?

  The crowd thins around me, excited girls going home to get ready for the concert tomorrow. A concert I’m sadly going to miss.

  I tried to save up the funds, but my car broke down right before tickets went on sale. Since I need a car to work, and a job to live, I had to hand over the cash to the mechanic instead of my bias.

  The tickets sold out before I could get more money. Which is why it sucks to be an adult.

  When I turned eighteen, I was so excited to move out and have a career. I applied for culinary school the second I could, moving into an apartment with Samantha. Now I wish I was still at home, saving my money. Maybe then I could do things like go to X-O concerts.

  I’ll have to take solace in the fact that my bias is in the same city as me. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. Even if it’s not good enough.

  Maybe after the concert I’ll wait for the boys to come out of the stadium. I can’t give up when I know they’re so near.

  I might have a better chance of spotting him then, anyway. As long as I can convince Samantha to come with me again. I don’t trust my driving skills that late at night.

  “There you are,” Samantha says, putting a hand on my shoulder and flipping me a
round. “You just abandoned me in the crowd of crazies.”

  “Sam,” I say, my voice cracking. She may be my best friend and my roommate, but she doesn’t understand my love for Kpop. There’s no way she’s feeling my pain.

  She tugs at me again. “Let’s get out of here. I feel like I’m going to get trampled.”

  “Not yet,” I say. I want to sit and stare at the place where Chansol’s feet walked a second before. Even if I didn’t get to see him. “The traffic’s going to be bad getting out of here, anyway.”

  It’s true, and it leaves me a good reason to stay and wallow in my disappointment.

  “I knew we should’ve taken a bus,” Sam says, “but that’s probably packed too. I can’t believe this many people came out to see some weird Asian boy band.”

  I spin on her, the fangirl claws ready to come out. “Don’t say stuff like that. Especially here. Or else you will get trampled.”

  Sam crosses her arms, popping a hip. “Yeah, I noticed they were a little nuts. That one girl totally knocked you over when they were walking by.”

  I know all too well, but I don’t want to think about it.

  “By the way,” Sam says, “who was that tall one in the middle? He had a cute goofy smile on his face.”

  No. She cannot steal my bias. I had him first. Not cool.

  “If you ever decide to actually listen to their music, I’ll tell you.”

  Sam nudges me, a weird smirk on her face. I get the sense she’s hiding something from me, but if she’d been listening to Kpop, I’d know it.

  “Oh come on,” Sam says. “You know I’ve heard all their songs.”

  I scoff. “When?”

  “Every single day,” she says, poking me in the shoulder, “when you’re blasting it in your room.”

  I whack her hand away. “Ha-ha. Very funny.” I’m not rolling my eyes, but it takes a considerable amount of self-restraint.

  If only she knew just how much that missed moment has hurt me.

  #fangirlproblem2

  The desire to live in another country. If I lived in Korea, this wouldn’t be a problem. There would be fan events and concerts all the time.

  Instead, I’m caught in the line of cars waiting to get out and with no memories of Chansol to relive later. Other than his torso. I guess I’m glad I got to see that for a moment, brief as it was. But this traffic isn’t putting me in the most giving mood.

  Sam and I are just sitting and waiting, so I pull out my phone to keep me entertained while we’re not moving. Which is pretty much all we’re doing.

  “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Sam says. “We’ve already been sitting here for half an hour.”

  “Because you love me,” I say, putting on a fake smile.

  Sam rolls her eyes. “Are we talking about that time you saved my life again?”

  “Not to brag or anything,” I say, “but saving your life is kind of a life altering thing. So yeah.”

  Samantha and I met in high school. I was helping out the lunch ladies one day and they asked me to get something out of storage from the school’s roof. But when I got to the top, Sam was there, standing on the edge, ready to jump.

  I took off my lunch lady gloves and did a silly dance to make her laugh, a dance Chansol did once when he was being interviewed. Sam and I have been inseparable ever since.

  “Someday,” she says, “I’ll pay you back.” Her head turns to look out the window and I swear I hear mumble something about paying me back soon, but it’s so quiet I’m not sure if I heard her correctly.

  We move an inch forward and my phone buzzes with a text. I close Snapchat and open the message from my co-worker, Jean.

  Hey Talitha! How are you? Only people who want something from me start a text that way. I was wondering if I could ask for a favor. Bingo! My boyfriend got free tickets to see Paramore tonight. Could you cover my shift?

  So many things wrong with this text, I don’t even know where to start. First of all, did she have to rub her boyfriend in my face when I’m so painfully single? Second of all, how does she know I don’t have anything going on? It’s a Friday night after all, I could be...doing...stuff.

  Oh gosh, I’m such a loser. All I ever do on a free Friday night is watch dramas and study Korean. Unless Sam forces me to one of her social gatherings where I spend all night huddled in the corner, afraid of people.

  What time? I text back, because, really, it’s probably better for me to work rather than sit at home wallowing in self-pity.

  I bang the steering wheel. I shouldn’t think about missing Chansol, because now I’m upset with myself. Sometimes Kpop ruins my life―but I can’t stay away. It’s something only a fangirl can understand.

  The car inches forward a few more feet and I can finally see the exit. Looks like it’s not so bad once we leave the lot. Thank goodness.

  My phone buzzes again. 3:30

  Crap. That’s in an hour! It’ll take me that long just to get to the hotel from the airport.

  I shoot a quick reply. I might be late, but I’ll take it. Jean owes me, big time.

  “Change of plans,” I say to Sam. “I have to go into work. Can you drive my car home?”

  “You want me to drive this piece of junk?” Sam says.

  I pet the dashboard. “Peppy is a nice car, you just have to treat him right.”

  “Whatever,” Sam says. “I guess I can. How are you going to get home?”

  I smile. “I’ll find a ride with someone.”

  Sam bites at her cuticles. She does that whenever she’s nervous. She hates driving Peppy. I don’t blame her since the last time she did, it died in the middle of a busy intersection. This time though, it’s fresh from the mechanic. She shouldn’t have a problem.

  “Is there an event tonight?” Sam asks, the side of her finger still in her mouth.

  I work for a hotel catering business, so sometimes we do weddings and parties.

  “No clue,” I say. “I’m just taking Jean’s shift.”

  “We need to get you a boyfriend,” Sam says.

  Does everyone have to rub that in my face? Sometimes I feel like dating any random guy I can find on the street, just so people would stop bugging me about it.

  Sam drops her hand from her mouth. “What about Bryce?”

  Oh, here we go. Now we’re going to discuss potential mates for Talitha. No thank you.

  “I’m not dating Bryce.”

  We need to leave this subject, pronto. I just don’t know how to get out of it.

  “Why not?” Sam asks. “Bryce was really nice to you that one time I met him.”

  Since Sam is like a Texas beauty queen who’s never been date-less on a weekend, she wouldn’t understand. Short girls with sneaker obsessions don’t get guys that easily.

  “Yeah, he’s so nice he tried to feel me up while we were alone in the walk-in fridge. And he has a mole the size of a nickel on his right cheek—with hair growing out of it.”

  From the corner of my eye, I can see Sam cringe. “Okay, we’ll strike Bryce off the list.”

  “List? Are you keeping track of potential boyfriends for me?”

  “You weren’t going to,” Sam says, sounding annoyed, “so I had to take action.”

  Sam thinks she’s doing me a favor, but she’s not. All she’s doing is making it harder. Because the truth is, the one thing I want more than anything is love. Real love. But I’m also terrified of it. I’ve been hurt by men before. Even my dad didn’t want to stay with us.

  “Is being single such a bad thing?” It can’t all be awful. There has to be something that’s better about being single. Oh! I know. “When was the last time you got ice cream without sharing it?”

  I glance at Sam, who furrows her brow. “Eric just likes to try my flavor,” she says in a small voice.

  See? Singledom isn’t all bad. I’m on a roll. “Don’t you feel obligated to shave every day, too? I haven’t shaved my legs in two weeks.”

  Sam hits me. “T
alitha, that’s gross. Don’t even tell me that’s a good reason for you to be single.”

  It is in my book. I should just go au naturel until a potential mate enters my line of vision. Which will probably be never, since the only guy I love is a mega popstar who’s mauled by fans everywhere he goes.

  #fangirlproblem3

  Not wanting to live in reality.

  The kitchen is the last place I want to be. I’m feeling a little queasy after wasting so much time and energy waiting to catch a glimpse of Chansol. The scent of chicken roasting assaults my senses, my stomach flipping over.

  I’ll have to man-up because I’m a chef and it’s what I do. Food is my life.

  “Talitha.” Sherry, my boss, nods to me as I walk into the back to put on my chef’s jacket and apron. That’s the best greeting I’m going to get. She’s not one for words, but I like that about her.

  I pull the hair tie off my wrist and gather my dark locks in a ponytail at the base of my skull. One look in the mirror reminds me that I’m just an average girl, wearing average glasses, with average brown eyes, and a less-than-average height.

  There’s no point in daydreaming. Like Chansol would even consider dating someone like me when he can have any girl wants. In the world. Literally.

  Maybe I should date Bryce. I can get over his mole. And his wandering hands.

  I shake my head. No. It’s too gross.

  I wash until my knuckles are red, then take my station chopping peppers. There’s nothing that centers me like slicing a knife through crisp veggies. It doesn’t take long for my mind to go from boys to food. Who needs a boyfriend when cooking will calm the soul?

  By the time the food is finished, I feel like a whole new person. Sherry even let me have a plate of Alfredo, and it was perfect. I love it when I get to serve perfect food to hungry people. Nothing’s better.

  It takes all five of us on the crew to set up in the small section of the ballroom. It’s not that there’s a ton of food, just that the warmers and trays are heavy. From what I gathered, we’re feeding a small group of executives from another country, and they’re only staying for three nights.

  I envy them, getting to travel the world and eat amazing food. They’re even staying in our five-star hotel. I could never afford to actually stay here.